If I Burn
by taralkariel
Summary: When Bane rescues a child the prison, he does not realize how it much it will influence the rest of his life. A look at Talia and Bane's relationship from Bane's point of view, from their meeting in the Pit until the final battle.
1. I Could Cry A Thousand Tears

**A/N: I own nothing, sadly. Titles are from the song If I Burn by Emilie Autumn. I've been hearing some complaints that revealing Talia undermined Bane's character. I don't think that's true and I wanted to explore the situation further.**

Darkness surrounded him. He could see the light far above, but it did not touch him. There were places where he could have felt it, but men went mad sitting there in the sun. He would not show such weakness. As a young man, there was still the climb to consider. None had made it, the old ones said. Still, that did not mean that no one ever would. He was strong and he was young, barely old enough to grow a beard, and he did not doubt his ability to do what no man had ever done.

He observed the other inhabitants of this hell, not allowing himself to sink into it as they had. They fought over nothing and formed meaningless bonds only to break them within hours. They disgusted him. There was one, however, who interested him. Unfortunately, for her, he was not the only one interested. She was not the only woman in the Pit, but she was certainly the only unbroken one. And she had a child. Few of the other prisoners seemed to notice the small creature moving about the cell; focused instead on the prospect of a proud woman to be taken. He was not interested in that prospect. He had lived a brutal life, though not always in this place, but he did not engage in ruthless acts without reason. Down here, there was little reason beyond mere survival.

Food did not come regularly. When it did, it was never enough for all of the prisoners. He was not sure if this was planned or not. He was larger than most of the others, and only occasionally had to fight a man for his food. Most of these men were older and desperate, and unaware of what they were facing. He killed swiftly and without remorse. Such men would have died soon, and in more agony. The woman, he noticed, received her own supplies separately and did not have to fight. This piqued his curiosity, but he did not expect her to explain herself to someone like him.

There was a well for water, so there was technically enough. However, a group of younger men often took control of it and would demand compensation from any who sought to quench their thirst. This did not trouble him. They were afraid when he approached and he rarely was addressed. Often, these groups would fight and destroy each other, making way for a new group to play at having power. He could have taken over the water source, and probably held it on his own. It did not seem like something that would be worth his time, however. So he left them to their illusion of control as long as they did not bother him with it.

Most of his time was spent training for the climb. Other prisoners often attempted it when they were weak and desperate, killing themselves when their despair made them sloppy. He studied the task and prepared himself accordingly. His first attempt resulted in him only making it up a few yards. This did not trouble him: he learned what he did wrong and did not repeat the same mistake. The second time, he nearly doubled his progress. When he fell this time, he injured his back and had to heal before he could attempt again.

Time passed without notice in the Pit. He watched the others while he waited to be able to climb again. The child had grown. He could not be certain of its age, but it seemed to be around nine or ten winters old. Winters were brutal and he was somewhat surprised to find it still thriving. The mother did not appear to be able to endure much longer. The men watched her with some sort of sick anticipation. He did not want to consider of what, and chose to observe the child as it played alone.

After a while, he was able to climb again. He progressed further each time, but not as dramatically as the second time. Eventually, there was only one barrier in his way. Several feet of what was once a walkway jutted out near the surface. Another one was a few feet above it, and appeared to provide easy access to the top of the wall. He attempted many times, but no strategy he could devise allowed him to reach the second one. He did not allow himself to despair, even though each failed attempt required several weeks of recuperation before trying again. He had nothing but time.

* * *

One day, as he was resting in preparation for another climb, he observed the doctor enter the cell of the woman. This was not unusual, but it was the heat of the afternoon and most others were asleep, so he had nothing else to occupy himself. The doctor examined the two inhabitants of the cell, his hands visibly shaking, even from where he sat, from morphine sickness. He smiled contemptuously; even their doctor was as damned as they were. The doctor clumsily shut the cell door behind him and wandered away. And then the cell door slowly swung back open.

He froze, wondering if anyone else had marked this. Sensing movement from the other cells, he slowly left his own, hoping that no one would see. The stupid woman who was now in such danger did not notice, either. But the child did. It tugged at its mother's skirts, but did not speak. Perhaps it realized the peril of drawing any more attention to the situation.

There was a wild cry from somewhere, and dozens of men ran toward the cell. He was shocked by their speed and determination. They grabbed the woman and dragged her away. He was close by enough to see the look of terror on her face. He looked away in fear and revulsion as he anticipated her fate. His gaze fell on the cell door, where the child was emerging with a sharp stick. It attempted to stab one of its mother's attackers. As the man turned around, he ran forward and struck him before he could lay his hands on the child. He swept the small creature into his arms and carried it to away from the violence he did not want to see or hear.

He sat on a ledge with the child in his arms, shielding it from view as best he could. No one seemed to have taken notice of his actions, but he did not want to risk attracting any attention at a time like this. The other prisoners were like wild beasts in their attack and he shuddered to think of the fate of the little one. To its credit, it had not made a sound or moved away from him. He supposed it knew that he had saved it. Though for what? It was not as though he wanted to care for it for the rest of his time here. He still planned to escape and wondered how this rash action would affect that outcome.

The unspeakable sounds quieted. He waited patiently as night fell and it grew pitch dark in the Pit. There was silence. He stood up and set the child down, unsure what to do next. It looked up at him with large blue eyes with such trust he could not bear to hold its gaze. He looked around and considered whether he should return it to its cell or go to his own. The prisoners would certainly want to attack again if they saw another inhabitant in the woman's cell, so he decided to take it to his own. He picked it up again and made his way as silently as possible to his own cell, careful to shield the child's gaze from the direction they had taken its mother.

The journey to safety felt long and agonizing. He carefully locked them inside when they reached his cell. It occurred to him that he did not know what language, if any, the child spoke. He could not remember hearing how the mother had communicated with it. Surely she had, though; it would have been cruel not to. He set the child gently on his cot and wrapped it in his blanket. He could feel its eyes on him in the dark, watching warily.

"It's time to sleep," he said gruffly.

"With you?" He was surprised by the suspicion in such a young voice.

"If you would rather sleep elsewhere, you are welcome to," he replied, ashamed by his tone. It had been a long time since he had spoken with someone.

"Why did you save me?"

He ran his fingers over his closely cropped hair in perplexity. He had not expected to be questioned by anyone. "You needed saving," he said simply, for he could think of no other reason.

The child nodded. "What do you expect from me?" This question was quieter than the others. Perhaps it did not want to know the answer.

He considered. "Nothing," he said at last.

Silence. He could not see what the child made of this response. "My name is Talia," she (for clearly such a name was female) told him.

He wondered why the gender of the child had never occurred to him before. It would be more dangerous for her to be thought a girl then a boy, though not by much. He would have to take care to hide her sex from the others. "I am called Bane," he replied. It was not his name, but no one knew that anymore. She did not appear to notice anything strange about his response.

"Thank you, Bane, for saving my life," she said gravely.

"It is not saved yet," he replied. "But you should rest." She lay down on his cot dutifully. He stretched out on the floor beside it and wondered what he had started.

**A/N: Please read and review! I will be updating every couple days.**


	2. The Louder That I Scream

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews and favorites! The last chapter should have been titled "I Could Cry a Thousand Tears, I Could Appease Your Secret Fears," sorry that wasn't in there before...**

**The Louder That I Scream, the Harder Your Machines Close Over Me**

Time passed almost without notice. The pair of them trained for the climb together. He kept her hidden as best as he could, though it caused him to kill weak souls when she was not careful enough. She did not like it when he had to kill someone. But the look of relief in her eyes after he had eliminated a threat was almost palpable. They spoke rarely – what was there to say? – but she occasionally would ask him a great deal of questions about the world into which they were training to escape.

"Why was I left here?"

"I suspect because your mother displeased someone powerful enough to put her here."

"What did you do to be put here?"

"I displeased someone powerful."

"Where is my father?"

"I do not know."

"Will you help me find him?"

"Yes."

"What is it like up there?"

"Bright. And open. You will be able to see for miles."

"How many times have you tried the climb?"

"Quite a few before I met you."

"Why haven't you tried since then?"

"I would not want to leave you here alone."

At the end of her questions, she would quietly absorb his information and not speak to him again for hours, sometimes days. He did not know what she was considering when she did this. His cell was more secluded than her poor mother's, so he did not often worry when they were safely inside it. Leaving it, however, was always perilous. Whenever possible, he insisted she remain hidden. Sometimes it was not possible.

* * *

One day, they were walking back from fetching water. He walked before her, keeping any eye out for anyone who might notice his shadow. She was getting quite good at following him in this fashion. He paused near the place where the prisoners could start to climb and looked up, considering how much longer he should wait before they attempted it. Once they tried, her secret would be out and things would be extremely dangerous for them. She had grown strong; well, as strong as could be expected in this hole.

He had paused too long. A shout echoed across the Pit. He did not understand the words, but he could tell what must have been said as dozens of eyes turned to him and his shadow. Shapes rushed forward, from all directions.

"Run!" he cried to Talia, pushing her ahead of him. They ran to the edge of the Pit. A man ran in front of them, reaching for her. He swept the man up with one arm and tossed him back toward their pursuers. He lifted her gently onto the ledge, then turned to fight. A mass of bodies surrounded him, trying to reach her. He fought like a demon, killing many of them before being swallowed up in their midst. In desperation, he turned toward the edge, seeing Talia watching him. "Goodbye," he said as he was pulled off his feet and everything went black.

* * *

Pain was the only sensation he felt when he awoke. He gasped aloud, then regretted moving his body at all. Tensing to hold still hurt even more and he felt the world growing black again. Some moments later he was able to breathe and open his eyes. He was in his own cot, covered in bloody bandages. The doctor stood nearby, watching him. He said something in a language he did not understand.

"You are brave. But foolish," the doctor said, watching him carefully for some sign that he knew this language.

A self-effacing smile crossed his face. He could feel the bandages covering him as they moved from the expression. "Did she escape?" he asked quietly, closing his eyes against the pain.

"Yes, she is gone."

A wave of sadness mixed with relief washed over him. At least she had escaped, though he remained here. Alone. The thought had never bothered him before and he pushed it away.

"I am going to have to operate on your back. It will be very painful," the doctor said.

He wanted to laugh. Everything was very painful. Instead, he closed his eyes and let himself sink back into the abyss of agony.

* * *

He did not know how long he laid there. His strength slipped away and even the slightest motion was torture to his poor body. He thought of nothing but limiting the pain. His hopes for escape were gone. A body as broken as his had no chance to make the climb. The thought did not bother him particularly. Talia was gone, leaving him in this hell. Even if he were able to elude his fate here, he would never be able to find her again.

Did he want to find her again? He wondered sometimes when the pain was not too great. It did not seem to matter anymore. It would be some purpose for his life. Perhaps it would keep him out of prison for longer than he usually was able. He hoped she was able to survive out there. Though it was probably safer than being in the Pit, a child alone in the world was still in danger. His thoughts rarely were able to go beyond this before he slipped back into devouring agony.

The doctor fed him and he survived. He did not thrive, but he continued to live. He did not know why. His strength would never return to what it once was. There was no reason to remain here. The doctor shook constantly and the surgeries had not gone well; if anything, they felt like they had made his condition worse. He could see and feel the scars that formed all over his body, even his face. But he could not bring himself to care. He would give anything to be free from this misery.

One day, he found himself sitting on the wall by where the climb was attempted. He did not know how he had gotten there, but it did not matter. It was nice to sit in the sun, despite the fact that little of his skin was visible. He noticed shapes above him and tormented himself by craning his neck to get a better look. Men were repelling down the walls. He blinked in confusion. Why would anyone want to come down here? He watched apathetically as they attacked many of the prisoners. That was unaccountable. The poor men were nearly dead already, why waste the ammunition?

Suddenly, he found himself staring into bright blue eyes. Strangely familiar. "Talia?" he murmured. But, no, these eyes were clearly on a man. They widened when he spoke, and he heard the man shouting orders of some sort. He closed his eyes again, deciding he didn't care what these strange events meant. Without warning, he felt excruciating pain around his midsection and found himself being lifted off of the ground. He screamed in agony, unable to bear it in silence any longer. Then, mercifully, darkness took over again.

* * *

He was in a bed. A real bed. The softness did something to diminish the pain, or he would not have noticed. It was dark in the room, but he could make out a shape in the chair beside the bed. A small, childlike shape.

"Talia?" he whispered.

The shape jumped. "You're awake."

"Perhaps."

"I found my father. He rescued you." The young voice was proud, proud of a man who had abandoned her and her mother to the worst hell on earth. And now he owed that man his life. The thought made him sick. He did not answer the girl.

She turned on a light and he cried out at its brightness, covering his face with his arms. That was a mistake, and it took a great deal of effort to prevent himself from screaming. He felt a feather-light touch on his arm, tracing his scars.

"I am sorry." He did not know what if she was apologizing for the light or for more than that. "It took me a long time to find my father, and he did not believe you could still be alive."

"How long?" he asked cruelly.

Her hand moved away from him. "A few years."

The words echoed in his mind. A few years. He had been enduring this suffering in silence for years in the blackest pit on Earth. He pressed his hands harder onto his face to quell his screams of frustration, his back arching in agony. The moment passed and he grew quiet, accepting what could not be changed. He uncovered his face and looked at her. She was as white as a sheet, staring at him. She could no longer pass for a young boy, he thought irrelevantly.

"The doctors did not think you would wake up," she said softly, when it was clear he was calm.

"They were wrong," he said simply.

Something like the ghost of a smile crossed her lips. "Indeed. Would you like me to fetch one anyway?"

"How long have you waited here?"

To his surprise, she blushed. "Most nights for the past month," she replied.

He closed his eyes again. "Why?"

"It is strange here. You are the only thing that is familiar."

He smiled, self-mocking. What a poor creature, to seek him in comfort. "What about your father?"

"He is a great man, concerned with the vast workings of the world. Not with children." There was a strange mix of admiration and sadness in her voice.

"You are barely a child any longer," he replied quietly, his eyes still closed.

"You should sleep," she said. He obeyed immediately.

* * *

He was awoken violently, pain exploding across his body, causing screams to burst from him almost without him being aware. A small part of him noticed that there were people in the room, rushing around and trying to communicate over the noise he made. His limbs were strapped to the bed, or he no doubt would have fallen off in his thrashing. A weight, probably of a person, slammed across his chest, pushing the air out of his lungs. He gasped ineffectually for air and felt something cold and metal close over his face.

"Breathe," a voice ordered in his ear.

He did as asked and felt instantly more clear-headed. The pain was receding. He continued to breathe slowly as his body relaxed against the straps and the weight on his chest moved. The room became defined shapes instead of a white blur and he found the blue-eyed man he barely remembered standing over him.

"Better?" he asked.

"Infinitely," he replied, wondering at the harsh sound of his voice.

"Good. Leave us," the man said to the others in the room. "I am Ra's Al Ghul. It seems you saved my daughter from a terrible fate." He waited, but no response came from the man in the bed. "You have my gratitude. I had this mask made to help you with the pain you suffer. My daughter has requested that you stay here, with us, and be trained alongside my men. You are not like the men we usually recruit, but I am willing to make an exception. On one condition."

"Yes," he breathed; it was not a question, but an expectation.

"My daughter trusts you with her life. And more. I do not know why you rescued her. I don't want to know. But you will not lay a finger on her for any reason. Is that clear?"

The danger in the man's voice was impressive, but he only smiled beneath his mask. "Yes."

Ra's nodded, then left without another word.

**A/N: Please read and review! I really appreciate it :)**


	3. Maybe I'm Afraid, But Still I Swear,

**Maybe I'm Afraid, but Still I Swear, You Could Take My Life With Conscience Clear But You Should Still Hear**

He awoke with a start and was surprised to find that it was dark. Nothing was present in the room to have woken him, so he supposed it was merely a dream. He took stock of himself, pleased to find that the intense pain that had been his world for years, apparently, was greatly diminished. He was aware of it, but it did not control him anymore. The sound of his own breathing was somewhat startling, but could be ignored. The mask was tight on his face, and somewhat uncomfortable, but definitely worth it.

He was hungry. Did he dare remove his mask in order to eat? Was there any food to be had? He surveyed his room and found none. There was a mirror in a far corner of the room. He stared at it for a while, warring with his desire and fear of seeing the state to which his body had been reduced. He rose from the bed slowly, feeling a dull ache in every limb, but not intense pain. His walk was shuffling and clumsy, but he made it to the mirror without incident.

His body was fairly covered with scars. One long mark stretched from the base of his neck all the way down his back. The others were smaller and less noticeable. He supposed that one was caused by the bumbling doctor. The thought made him savage and he grasped the counter tightly to keep from striking the mirror or the wall. Calming himself, he looked at his face and at the demonic apparatus attached to it. He smiled, imagining how the doctor would react to his new face. The expression was mostly hidden and he considered what a powerful tool it would be to have an unreadable face. Not that he had been particularly expressive beforehand, of course.

He considered removing the mask to observe the damage to the rest of his face, but did not see the point in doing so. Instead, he turned from the mirror and dropped to the floor. His arms protested when he started doing push-ups, but he continued nonetheless. He exercised his unused muscles for some time, until he was covered with sweat and began to fear that he would not be able to climb back into bed. Carefully, he pulled himself up the chair and threw himself onto the bed. It felt very welcoming and he fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

The sun fought against the curtains and hurt his eyes as it reached his face. He turned away and was pleased to feel a familiar discomfort in his muscles. His strength would return now that he was not incapacitated by pain.

"Good morning," a voice said.

He opened one eye to observe his visitor and felt something like relief to find it was only Talia. He grunted in response to her statement.

"I brought your breakfast," she told him.

He sat up slowly, enjoying the soreness that had replaced the constant ache in his muscles. "How am I to eat it?" he asked, his voice sounding more like a growl than he intended.

If she thought his new face fearsome, she did not show it. "We can give you an extra dose so you can take your mask off for a little while," she informed him.

"Show me how it works," he said.

She explained what each piece did and he did as she suggested, the back of his mind cursing himself for not observing his appearance when no one was around. Though he imagined she had seen the damage while he was unconscious. He removed his mask slowly, with fingers he refused to admit were shaking. The air felt cold in his lungs as he breathed in deeply. The dull ache in his body increased, though only slightly. Still, it was clear that he would want to eat quickly.

He fell on the meal with a swiftness that made her smile. How wonderful it was to eat cooked food. Fires were difficult and discouraged in the Pit. He paused in his haste to look over at the mirror, and was surprised to find that his face, though scarred, was not particularly damaged. One scar ran across his cheek and through his upper lip, but the others were all small and hard to notice. He found this absurdly reassuring and pulled his mask back on in disgust.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"In the Himalayan Mountains," she told him.

"Why?"

"That is where my father makes his home."

No wonder the man had been so forceful in his demands. "He took a great risk bringing someone like me here."

She frowned. "Why?"

"He is a great man, you said, and must have enemies. How can he know I will choose to serve him and not them?"

"Do you have to serve anyone?" she asked.

The question was innocent and he smiled. "No, but I am sure your father will not consider that possibility."

"Oh." She was silent for a while. "Will you stay here and train with my father's men?"

He looked at her, surprised. "I did not realize I had a choice."

"You saved my life. And we saved yours. The debt is cleared on both sides," she said confidently.

Somehow, he did not think that Ra's Al Ghul felt the same way. "What will you do?"

"Stay with my father. He will train me to be in the League of Shadows, perhaps becoming his heir at some point." She sounded apprehensive.

He tried to remember what he had heard of the League, but could recall nothing. "I have nowhere to go," he said, surprised by his honesty. It always seemed to come more easily when he spoke to her.

"Then you will stay here, with us," she said with the naiveté of a child.

"That will be dangerous," he responded quietly.

"You will protect me." She smiled reassuringly, patted his arm gently and left. He frowned after her, wondering, and feeling he knew the answer, how her father would feel about that.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	4. I Could Bargain But I'd Lose

**A/N: Thanks for all the favoriting and following! And thanks to HeyNowYa for the lovely correspondence :) Enjoy!**

**I Could Bargain But I'd Lose, You'll Sell the Parts That You Don't use, I Could Beg You to Be Merciful and Set Me Free**

Years passed. He grew strong, stronger than any of the other members of the League of Shadows. They feared to spar with him because of his ferocity and speed. The mask had an unforeseen side-effect: it countered any pain, not only the old ones. So he was able to fight long after his injuries should have stopped him. This was both good and bad and he accepted each with equanimity.

The purpose of the League of Shadows did not matter to him. He agreed with the basic tenants that men were evil and deserved to be destroyed when they grew too corrupt. But he was too cynical to think that there were those who did not deserve to be destroyed, so it seemed a fool's errand. They spoke to him of the evils of Gotham City and other places, but he was not convinced that they were anything compared to the evils of the Pit.

He did not mention his time in that hell, however, since he could see the look of revulsion Ra's directed at him whenever his past was brought up. He knew he was a reminder of the fate of their leader's wife. Sometimes this angered him. It was Ra's own damn fault for not ever considering what had become of her and leaving her and his daughter to their fates in the worst place imaginable. The salvation of his daughter from that fate was, he felt, the only reason the man did not strike him down.

Ra's had more reason to worry than he realized. Talia was becoming a woman, but did not behave properly. She had had no one to show her how, of course, though the fact was often forgotten. Father and daughter fought a great deal, mostly about him, he knew. They tried to hide it, especially Talia, but he knew they had little to disagree on besides his presence.

She adored him. She respected and obeyed her father (for the most part), but rarely showed affection toward any other person. Often, when they were not training, she would find him and walk with him, holding his large hand in her delicate one. The innocent gesture could easily be misconstrued. But it was worse than that. In the Pit, they had shared a cot. Before that, she had shared one with her mother. Sleeping alone was not something she was used to, and she sometimes stole into his room at night, to sleep peacefully at his side. He was careful not to touch her, though trying not to let her know that was his aim, and was always relieved to find her gone in the early morning light. If he knew, Ra's was certain to kill him for this action, as guileless as it was.

As she grew into a woman, he became more and more worried about her attentions. She was much younger than him, and he was in her father's house. To take advantage of the situation would be nearly as deplorable, he felt, as the men in the Pit who took the women who had the misfortune of being sentenced there. His feelings for her were strong, but he refused to consider them at any length. He would protect her, as her father asked, and nothing more.

* * *

One afternoon, he was training with the others when Ra's entered the room, a thunderous look of anger on his face. "Bane!" he bellowed.

He smiled and left his spot to approach his leader.

"Let that man down!" Ra's cried.

Without a word, he returned to where he had been and cut the rope that was wrapped around another member's neck. The man had been attacking him brutally and he had sought the only weapon available to him: a piece of rope. He had not realized it was already tied to something. There was no friendship between himself and the other members, but he had done nothing to encourage their animosity. Until now, it seemed.

He stood before Ra's Al Ghul, trying not to think about how he could easily defeat the weaker, older man. "What did you think you were doing? We do not deal with brute strength here," Ra's warned, his voice dangerously quiet. The other men had stopped their training to watch.

"I was defending myself," he replied, his voice just as dangerous.

The cool demeanor of the other man slipped, and for one moment, he could see the hatred and disgust Ra's truly felt toward him. Then he composed himself. "If you do not wish to be one of us, you have no reason to stay here," he said, almost gently. Had he emphasized 'no reason?' "We have trained you as one of our own, but you do not seem to take to our methods. So perhaps it would be best for everyone if you left."

He smiled. "Perhaps it would." He did not expect to be allowed to leave their inner sanctum with his life. Still, his welcome was clearly worn out, so he turned abruptly and left the room. Ra's would certainly see this as defiance, but he did not care. He returned to his own room and sat by the window, watching the falling snow. Before coming here, he had never seen it and it still fascinated him. Enough to be calm himself so he could rationally consider his options after he left this place. He had the skills to go anywhere and do anything he wanted. But it had been a long time since he had wanted anything, so he gave himself time to contemplate his options.

"Bane?"

She was getting good at sneaking around. He looked up at her calmly. "Yes?"

"My father asked you to leave, didn't he?" She looked upset, which was rare.

"He did."

"And you will?"

He sighed at her tone. "You father has plenty of men. Men he chose himself. There is no reason for me to stay here."

A wounded look crossed her face and she took his hand. "No reason?"

He took a deep breath and looked at her intently. She looked away first and a cold smile crossed his lips. "You are safe here," he told her quietly.

"Perhaps," she replied, and left, her body tense with anger.

* * *

After a while, he got to his feet, relishing in his newfound strength. He gathered up what little he had and prepared for a journey. He did not know where he would go, but it hardly mattered. There were plenty of places that could use a person like him in the world. This was not one of them. In the dark of the night, he left as silently as he was able and began the long trek down the mountain. He had no money, but, in places like this, it was not necessary. Men of his size had no trouble getting what they needed, whether through fear or for being able to do tasks that few others could.

A month passed before he had made it to the coast. Bartering passage to the Americas would take longer, but he had time. He hired out his skills to a local general to keep the villagers in line. It was not difficult. The people were undernourished and he towered over them. He did not respect his employer, feeling that he was a mean little man who deserved at least as much brutality as he inflicted on his people, and he considered resolving this before he left.

One evening, he sat alone in the general's hall, the rest of the household was asleep. He toyed unconsciously with his mask, considering how much medicine he had left and where to get more as he stared into the fire.

"Bane."

He started at the voice. "Talia," he replied, not turning toward her.

"You were hard to find."

"I am sorry," he replied with polite coldness.

She walked in front of him, and studied him intently with her bright blue eyes. "Where are you going?"

"To the Americas."

"Why?"

"I need more medicine and it is unlikely I can find it in less civilized places."

"Oh." She sat down before him, watching him. "I've left my father's house."

"I can see that," he replied with a mocking smile.

"I mean permanently. We disagreed about my usefulness," she explained in a clipped tone.

"So you came to find me and prove him wrong?"

She frowned. "Perhaps."

He looked past her, into the flames. She turned herself around and leaned against his knee. He hoped vaguely that she did not notice how her action caused his body to coil like a spring.

"It was lovely when we had a fire," she said quietly.

"Yes," he agreed sincerely, not needing to ask what she meant.

"Do you not want me to go with you?" she asked earnestly, still staring into the flames.

He was silent for a long time. She did not press him. "I do not doubt your usefulness," he said at last. She reached for his hand and he held perfectly still, waiting, though he did not know for what.

Finally, she asked "can we leave tonight?"

"Yes," he replied.

She got to her feet, letting go of his hand in the process. He rose slowly, trying not to consider how he felt about that. She waited for him to lead, and he walked cautiously to his own chamber. He gathered his things without a word, ignoring her presence. They left the building. He did not bother to make sure it was locked behind them, not caring what befell his former employer. She found a ship with surprising ease, and he wondered if she had done so before finding him. He balked some yards from it, eyeing the sailors who would no doubt treat him as a bad omen, sailors being superstitious folk. She looked at him in confusion.

"They will not allow me on board," he explained calmly.

Her frown deepened. Then she understood. She pulled a cloth out of her pack and wrapped it around his head, hiding the mask from view. He held very still and tried not to think about her fingers on his skin. "There, we will just have to be careful. It is a long journey."

"Indeed," he replied, voice muffled. She smiled and strode confidently forward. He wondered if being the one who escaped gave her all of this self-assurance.


	5. But the Softer I Become

**A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last one :)**

**But the Softer I Become, the Harder Your Machines Close Over Me**

The journey by ship was long and unpleasant. They were an odd pair, and other passengers often stared. The women, in particular, seemed to reprimand him in their gaze. Talia was young, but clearly a woman. She seemed unaware of this, and he found himself as concerned as he had been when living with her father. So when they glared at him, he just smiled behind his two masks. For his part, he did nothing to encourage her affection, though he could not bring himself to discourage it, either. As much as he had saved her in the Pit, he could not help but think of what he would have been like if she had not been there to remind him of his humanity.

"Where do you want to go when we reach port?" Talia asked him one day. She stood at the railing, peering into the distance as though she could already see the land. He stood several feet behind her, his arms crossed.

"That will depend on the information I can find in the port town," he replied. With so many people coming and going, crime was rampant and it would be easy to find someone willing to hire him. He was not sure who would be willing to hire Talia, however.

"Have you been here before?"

He realized that she was excited and wondered if she had ever been anywhere besides the Pit and her father's house. "I have been to this continent, but not this coast," he responded with a smile.

"What sort of work do you think we can find?"

"There is always need for mercenaries in these countries. Though you are unconventional," he added quietly.

She turned around and touched the cloth covering his mask. "So are you, my friend."

He did not respond to this, tearing his gaze from hers to look out over the ocean again. She let her hand fall and returned to the railing.

* * *

Finally, they reached the harbor. He led her into the city, keeping an eye on her to be sure she did not wander off. But she was no longer and child and he needn't have worried. Though he had never been there before, he did not have any trouble finding a place for them to stay. It was small, but there were two rooms and a small kitchen area. Compared to most places he had been, it was a palace. "Stay here," he told her. She frowned at him but did not argue. She looked tired.

He walked calmly through the streets, taking his time. His name was unknown and no self-respecting person would hire an unknown person. He needed a reputation and felt there was no time like the present. So he deliberately walked through the most dangerous parts of town, waiting for a chance to prove himself. He did not have to wait long.

"Hey, freak, what's with the mask?"

He turned to find a half dozen men sprawled across some boxes in an alley. The one who had addressed him was fingering a large knife and smiling. Bane smiled in response. "I was looking for you," he said cheerfully.

The other man glared and stood, his men rising silently behind him, no longer relaxed. They were not large men, but all had knives of some sort. He assessed them carefully as they arranged themselves around him. Without warning, he rushed forwards, seizing one by the hair and swinging him into a compatriot. He blocked and struck, tossing some aside as though they were rag dolls. In only moments, all were unmoving on the ground. He surveyed the damage, then lifted one of the least injured men by his collar so they were face to face.

"I am called Bane." He pulled the cloth off of his face to reveal the monstrosity beneath it. The man cringed, pleading with him in some other language. "Who leads you?"

"The Turk," the man whimpered.

"Take me to him," Bane rumbled. The man nodded repeatedly so he set him back on the ground. He looked toward the rest of the gang, and Bane pushed him roughly away. "Now."

* * *

Hours later, employment secured, he returned to where he had left Talia. She was cooking. He stopped in the doorway, surprised that she knew how to cook and angry that she had clearly left the safety of the building.

"Where did you get that?" he said dangerously.

"There was a woman selling food in the hallway. I bought some," she replied, frowning at him.

He sat down, watching her, willing himself to calm down.

"Were you successful?" She did not look at him.

"In finding the local drug lord, yes."

"Do you think he will know where to get your medicine?" she asked quietly.

"I don't expect so. But I don't plan to stay here long."

"What do you plan?" She turned around, looking at him closely.

The intensity of her eyes made him freeze. "I do not want to work for another man," he said at last.

"You would rather have men work for you?"

"Yes."

"How will you do that?"

"I will have to find a man in power, take him down, and replace him," he replied calmly.

"And you don't want to do that here?"

"No. The men in these places do not stay very long. I would want more loyalty."

She nodded slowly, then turned her attention back to the cooking. "And what about me?" she asked softly.

He went cold. What sort of question was that? "What do you want to do?" he asked gently.

She turned back to him, a look of sadness in her eyes. Were she less hardened, he would have expected her to be crying. "I don't want to serve my father anymore. I owe him nothing. But I owe you everything."

Sighing, he looked away. She was at his side in a moment, her hand touched his cheek, then cupped his chin and turned his face toward hers. He did not want to see the look in her eyes. Her fingers trembled as they attempted to do something with his mask. He realized her intention and caught her hands in his own, pulling them away from his face.

"You are a child, Talia," he said painfully.

She ripped one hand from his grasp and slapped him, hard. He stood immediately, but forced himself not to move otherwise. "I am not a child," she growled.

"But you were when we met. When I was already a man."

She tossed her head, eyes blazing. "Do you not love me?" she demanded.

He closed his eyes. "Yes," he whispered.

"Do you doubt my love for you?"

He eyed her wearily. "No. You love me. As you would your father."

She slapped him again and he curled his fingers tightly around his chair, until his knuckles were white. "You are aptly named," she snarled, and left, slamming the door behind her. He threw the chair against the wall, listening to the sound as it splintered, and leaned heavily against the counter, his face in his hands.

He waited there for days, but she did not return. He did not really expect it of her, but could not keep himself from feeling anguished nonetheless. Finally, he accepted that she was gone, probably forever. And then he felt relief more than anything else. Like Ra's, he did not welcome the reminder of the Pit and could now do what he did best.

**A/N: Sad ending... :( Please read and review!**


	6. When You Wake, You'll Find Me

**A/N: Thank you for the great responses so far!**

**When You Wake, You'll Find Me Right Beside You, Waiting to Attack**

Years passed. Bane made a name for himself, first in South America, then moving to Africa. Where ever governments were being overthrown, he was asked to help the cause. He did not feel any particular loyalty to the insurgents and their ideals, only his own desire to destroy those who felt confident in their meaningless power. Though this was shaped by his past, he did not think of it. He enjoyed his reputation as a masked man to be feared and inspired unfailing loyalty in his men.

He was a formidable opponent, both in terms of strategy and his own strength. His body, without being held back by pain, grew massive with muscle and power. Still, he knew that it was not to be the only thing he relied upon, so he worked hard to increase his mind as well. Men may be terrified before him, but that would do him little good if he did not use good tactics to accomplish what he was being paid to do.

One day, he was in a tent in North Africa. The sand got in everything and he was reconsidering staying to finish the job. He touched his mask thoughtfully, hoping idly that the sand did not damage it, when Barsad, his second-in-command, knocked awkwardly on the canvas. Bane smiled at the other man's discomfort and got to his feet. "Yes?" he asked impatiently. Though this man was his most loyal supporter, he could not be allowed to become particularly familiar if Bane wanted to maintain his carefully crafted persona.

"I have the news you requested," Barsad said deferentially as he entered the tent.

"Thank you," Bane replied, taking the papers roughly out of his hands. He looked at them for a moment, then raised his eyes to the man standing there, watching him. "Is there anything else?"

"No, sir," he said hastily, and left the tent.

Bane sat down at his desk, spreading out the new materials. It was important for him to keep up with the news, if only to learn about prospective employers. Though they sought him through word of mouth, he liked to know as much as possible about the situation he was about to get into beforehand.

After about twenty minutes, he came across a strange addition to his usual resources. The Gotham paper. He considered calling Barsad to ask about it, until he noticed the headline. A poisonous gas had been released in some part of the city, causing thousands of people to panic and wreak havoc. The intent seemed to have been for the whole city, but was stopped by some sort of vigilante who dressed like a bat. Bane laughed at that, shaking his head. But as he continued reading about the situation, it seemed more and more familiar.

He closed his eyes, remembering his lessons with the League of Shadows. They sought to destroy Gotham, though not with such violent means. The plan had been an economic collapse, though that apparently had not come to pass. Why they would choose such a flagrant alternative was beyond him. The fact that they were defeated, regardless of the costume of the person who defeated them, was something to be concerned about. Despite his strength and influence, he did not think he could defeat the League if they chose to attack his operations. What was the state of the League now, after their defeat? Was Talia involved in any of this?

Bane strode out of the tent, searching out Barsad immediately. "What do you know about this?" he asked, pushing the paper into the other man's hands.

"Nothing yet, sir, we just felt that it would be something that would interest you," he replied.

"Find out what you can," Bane said, and returned to his desk to see what else he could learn.

* * *

Some weeks later, he found himself in a familiar mountainous place. The mansion where he had recuperated and trained for years was gone. It was shocking. How had he not heard about this? Though he had distanced himself from the League, destruction like this was hard to keep secret. He swore violently at the sight, and his men moved hastily away from him. Where was Talia? Perhaps the League was threatened and she had gone into hiding. He supposed he had better just wait, then, and hope for some fresh news. So he returned to the desert and continued his work there. His men were ordered to bring him any information they could on the League, the destruction in Gotham, or this Batman person who had been victorious.

* * *

One night, as he lay stretched out in his cot, he heard a soft noise very close to him. He reached covertly under his pillow in search of a knife he kept there. Though he could best virtually any man using only his fists, he had learned not to take chances. He stared into the blackness, searching for the source of the noise.

"Hello, old friend," a soft voice said.

"Talia," he replied emotionlessly.

She turned on his lamp. She was dressed all in black and had been wearing a mask, though she removed it now. He wondered how many years it had been, for she was clearly an adult woman. "My father is dead," she said, mimicking his cool tone.

"I am sorry to hear that," he replied, allowing some sincerity into his voice.

"As am I. Have you heard what he was planning?"

"No."

"He sought to destroy Gotham by releasing a toxin from the blue flower we used to train with – do you remember? – across the city so the inhabitants went mad."

"I heard of the attempt."

"It failed."

"I heard that, too."

She regarded him coldly and he held her gaze. "I heard you were looking for me."

"I read about the events in Gotham and saw the fingerprints of the League on it. I was concerned about what the failure meant for you. And your father."

She nodded, as though she had expected this response. "I have not seen my father in many years."

"What have you been doing?" he asked, glad that his voice did not betray how often he had been desperate to know this answer.

"Working, like you." She paused, surveying his tent. "Well, not so much like you. But bad men pay me to do bad things because they think it will make a difference."

"Which is like me," he said cynically.

"Yes." To his surprise, particularly given her chilly demeanor, she sat down beside him and leaned against his arm. "I cannot believe he is dead," she whispered.

He put his arm around her as he had when she was a child. She did not cry, but was silent for a long time. "How did you find me?" he asked, mostly to distract himself.

"You are famous, my friend. I have been hearing of your exploits for years," she replied, almost smiling.

"Yes, but that does not mean I advertise my location," he said, matching her tone, though his smile was not visible.

"Did you think you could hide from me?" she asked, suddenly serious.

He felt himself laid bare and looked away. "I suppose not. The heir to the League of Shadows can always find what they want."

The statement seemed to surprise her. "That did not occur to me," she said, mystified.

"Of course you are the heir. Who else would be?"

"I don't think my father planned for that," she responded, smiling wryly.

"He did not seem to consider the possibility of his death," he agreed.

She sighed and leaned against him again, wrapping her arms loosely around his waist. He did not move, but began to wonder if his men had noticed her presence. If not, he would have to speak with whomever was on duty.

"Will you help me, my friend?" she asked suddenly.

He pulled himself from his considerations and looked down at her. "With what?"

"I want to avenge my father. And continue his legacy."

He was surprised by the resolve in her tone. "You want to destroy Gotham?"

"He and I disagreed on so much," she said quietly, one hand running down the scar on his spine, sending shivers across his back. "But this was something I did agree with, and would have been part of, if he had let me."

He carefully did not respond to her caress. Perhaps she would think his medication did not enable him to feel it. "He wanted to protect you."

"By putting me in a cage? Why did I escape the Pit only to go into another prison?" she demanded, her grip tightening on his waist.

If there was ever a time he thought she might cry, it was now. But she resisted with effort. He had no response to her question so stayed quiet. After a while, her grip loosened and she sat up and away from him. "If I am to be successful in my revenge, I will need your help and your resources, my friend."

He considered briefly. It would be an undertaking like no other. If they were successful, he would be in a good situation for the rest of his life. If they were not, well, it would at least be a great way to go out. "I will help you, Talia," he said quietly.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed their reunion :) Next chapters will deal with the events of the Dark Knight Rises. Please read and review!**


	7. It Doesn't Matter Where You Go

**A/N: Thanks so much for reviewing and following! Now we're getting into movie stuff, so I hope you enjoy that :)**

**It Doesn't Matter Where You Go, or What You Do, Because If I Burn, So Will You**

John Daggett was not a large man. He was a wealthy man, however, so he expected to be obeyed. Bane hated him instantly. His man, Stryver, was less arrogant and more cunning. Still, manipulating them would not be a challenge. This almost saddened him. One of the greatest operations ever attempted, and the beginning stages would be simple.

Bane stood on the other side of Daggett's desk, holding onto his belt and towering over both the desk and the man in it. "I'm told you can help me," Daggett said. "Won't you have a seat?"

"I can help you. And I prefer to stand," Bane replied, his voice echoing in the small office. They were far from civilization, where Daggett certainly had a luxurious office. Bane liked to see him here instead.

His refusal seemed to confuse the businessman, but he continued. "I need you to help me get access to some mines."

"Of course." When it was apparent that Daggett was too suspicious to continue, Bane explained "I never get involved without first knowing what will be asked of me and my men."

"Oh. That is good business."

"Thank you," Bane said sardonically. "You will put the money in this account. If something changes and you need to contact me, use this." He handed him a cell phone. There was only one number programmed into it.

"How will you contact me?"

"Oh, that will not be a problem, I can assure you."

Though the man clearly had some misgivings trusting a man like Bane, he stood and politely shook his hand before dismissing him. Bane managed to resist crushing his fingers before taking his leave.

* * *

The mining operations in question were small, though rich in ore. Their location was not ideal, and it took little effort on the part of Bane and his men to disrupt the unstable peace in the region in favor of their new employer. For the next step, he and a few men travelled to the former Soviet Union in search of a nuclear physicist who had made the mistake of discovering the possibility of weaponizing nuclear reactors. Talia had gone to Gotham some time before to research and report back. She had done her part admirably, fashioning herself as one of Gotham's elite. It was strange to see her that way, but Bane did not see her often.

Bruce Wayne, the man who dressed as a bat and killed Ra's Al Ghul, was their target, and they had devised several forms of attack to bring him low before destroying him. His money, his strength, his city, and his hope would be taken from him. Talia, under her alias, had invested in a nuclear reactor project with him, which he had inconveniently shut down. Bane did not mind, though, since it would be easier to steal and weaponize if it were not in use. A small part of him was also glad that it meant Talia would not be directly involved for much of the plan.

The remainder of the League of Shadows had joined them. They were loyal, though initially unsure of who was in charge of the operation. Bane made it clear that he was the new head of the League, in part to protect Talia. Also because leading them did not seem to interest her, so long as her goal was achieved. With their help, he was able to locate the physicist just before he was about to be extracted by the CIA. This seemed like an excellent opportunity to make himself better known in North America.

He found Dr. Pavel himself, and calmly explained to him that, if he wanted his family to live, he would need to do as expected. The man responded as men always did in this situation. Bane gave his men orders and allowed himself to be picked up along with the doctor. He enjoyed waiting quietly for the arrogant CIA man to question him. It was even more enjoyable to attack him and leave no survivors, though Bane did little of the killing himself. He did, however, terrify Dr. Pavel further by pumping some of his blood into a dead man before allowing the CIA plane to crash. It was necessary to leave one of his men on board, since the agent had reported one extra person at the pickup. He chose one of the mercenaries, instead of a League-member, and briefly considered what he would have done if all three of them had been reported on the plane. But men like the agent were predictable and he had not been worried.

With Dr. Pavel in tow, Bane reached Gotham City at last. He had never been there before, though he had sent Barsad ahead of him to start his work. Using Daggett's resources, the sewers underneath the city were being remodeled to fit their purpose. Bane surveyed the work that had gone on in his absence and commended his agent. Barsad seemed uncomfortable, though delighted, with the praise. Bane settled down in the center, underneath Wayne Tower.

* * *

On a particular day, he was crouched before his fire, deep in thought. He was vaguely aware of some loud noises from far away, as they echoed through the pipes. There was the sound of something being dragged towards him. "Why are you here?" he asked quietly.

"Answer him!" one of his mercenaries said, followed by the sound of a blow.

Bane rose to his full height, turning around slowly. "I was asking you," he told the man, who paled.

"It's the police commissioner."

"And you brought him down here?"

He looked uncomfortable. "We didn't know what to do."

"You panicked. And your weakness has cost three men their lives." Bane reached out calmly and choked the life out of the man. He turned to the other. "Search him, then I will kill you," he said, turning away, confident that his orders would be followed.

The man found a sheaf of papers in the commissioner's pocket and handed it over. Bane read them carefully, a broad smile crossing his face as he realized what he held. He was disturbed by a splash, and saw that the commissioner was not as injured as expected and had thrown himself from the platform. The men shot at him. "He is dead," the one who had found the papers told him.

"Show me his body," Bane replied, barely looking up.

"The water flows to any one of the outflows! We'd never find him."

"Follow him."

"Follow?"

Barsad took out a tracking device and handed it to Bane, who placed it in the man's jacket, zipping it up. "Follow him," he repeated, taking his weapon and shooting him in the gut. He returned to studying his valuable new asset as the man was swept away.

* * *

The commissioner could not be found, and Bane was told it was because someone else got there first. He decided it did not matter particularly. Gordon's credibility would soon be called into question and then he was no threat. He received a call from Stryver, and was contemptuously amused that Daggett did not call himself. He made his way to the man's home to receive new orders.

The office here was much larger than the previous one, and Daggett looked more comfortable behind this large desk. Bane did not tower over him as much as before and he was pleased to find how this affected the businessman's confidence.

"I want you to break into the stock market," he said without preamble.

"Why?"

He frowned, not used to being questioned. "To destroy Bruce Wayne and take all his money so that I can take over the company," he replied, almost snarling.

"And how would you like this done?"

He pulled out a flash drive. "Get into the system. The program will take care of the rest. You'll need these," he added, pulling out two small envelopes.

Bane opened them. Fingerprints. He took care not to mar them. "When?"

"Tonight, if you can."

"Of course." Bane walked away serenely, planning how best to accomplish his task.

* * *

That evening, he put on a helmet and a courier's jacket and entered the stock exchange. Security was not pleased that he refused to remove his helmet, so he did as asked and gave it to them somewhat forcefully. He could hear that his men had informed the hostages of their status as he entered the large room. He surveyed the damage and found one young man wearing his ID badge and looking defiant. That one would work nicely. He removed his helmet and handed it to the man at his side. "This is a stock exchange! There isn't any money for you to steal!" the man with the badge cried.

"Really? Then why are you all here?" Bane replied, grabbing his tie and pulling him across the room. He slammed his head down on the desk and used his badge and hand to gain access to the system. One of his more technically skilled mercenaries got to work and he walked around the room, deep in thought, holding onto his collar. The hostages shrank away from him.

"They've cut the fiber. But the cell's still working."

"For now," Bane said darkly. "How much longer will the program take?"

"Eight minutes," the man said confidently.

"Then let's go mobile." He walked back to the man who was clutching his helmet and yanked it away roughly. Then he grabbed a nearby woman by her collar and took her to where they had hidden motorbikes. She screamed and whimpered, clearly imagining all sorts of terrible fates. He sighed. "Send some hostages out first," he ordered as he straddled the machine and dragged the woman in front of him. They burst from the doors moments later and sped down the stairs, jumping over the barriers that had been erected around the building. Once clear of the closest police officers, he tossed his hostage away and sped up.

It was growing dark quickly and he led his men, and the police, on a wild chase through the streets while the program finished. While in a tunnel, he was surprised to find the lights go out and could hear a change in the sounds behind him. Bane moved his vehicle over to the man with the tablet and roughly took it out of his pack, while still driving. There were ninety seconds left. He returned it to its place and turned around. So the Batman had come out of hiding at last. Let him have the program. Let him try to figure out their plan. He would go prepare for their inevitable confrontation. Confident that, without a hostage, no one would follow him, he left the highway to observe the Batman's tactics before returning to the tunnels.

* * *

Bane walked calmly into the penthouse of John Daggett, hearing the man shouting things at Stryver, asking where he was. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear," he said.

"What the hell is going on?" Daggett demanded.

"The plan is proceeding as expected," he replied calmly, smiling.

"Does it look like I'm running Wayne Enterprises?! Your stock exchange hit didn't work, my friend. And now you've got my construction crews working all hours around the city? How exactly is that supposed to help my company absorb Wayne's?" he asked acidly.

Bane considered him for a moment. "Leave us," he said to Stryver, who hesitantly turned away.

"Wait! I'm in charge here," Daggett responded, twisting to face his man.

Bane laid a large hand on his shoulder. "Do you feel in charge?"

Stryver left and Daggett turned slowly around. "I have paid you a small fortune."

"And this gives you power over me?"

He gulped. "What is this?"

"Your money and infrastructure have been important. Until now," Bane explained sympathetically.

"What are you?" he gasped, staring in disbelief.

"Gotham's reckoning. Come to end the borrowed time you've all been living on."

"You're pure evil!"

"I'm necessary evil," Bane replied, and grabbed his neck. He did not kill him instantly, and regretted it when the man screamed piteously. Daggett dropped to the floor and Bane eyed him with disgust.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review.**


	8. It's Not Over Till It's Over

**A/N: Only two chapters left! I hope you enjoy it :)**

**It's Not Over Till It's Over, and It's Never Over**

Bane stood on the bridge, arms bare, holding onto the collar of his utility vest as he waited. Sounds of numerous scuffles reached him and he smiled. The pieces were in place and now it would begin. The Batman and the Kyle girl approached. She cleverly allowed him to go through the gate without her, and he nodded to one of his men, who dropped the grate door.

"You've made a serious mistake," the Batman told her quietly.

"Not as serious as yours, I fear," Bane said, his voice echoing across the sewer.

The Batman turned around, preparing himself for battle. "Bane," he said.

"Let's not stand on ceremony here, Mr. Wayne," he replied.

The Batman charged with shocking speed. But Bane calmly caught his fist before dealing several blows before the other could react. "Peace has robbed you of your strength. Victory has defeated you!" he said, almost laughing. He kicked the other man and caused him to fall off of the bridge. Hastily, he climbed down a hanging chain to attack further, easily driving the Bat off of the platform. Wayne landed on his back and threw something at Bane. Clouds of smoke appeared around him, and he laughed in earnest. "Theatricality and deception, powerful agents to the uninitiated. But we are initiated, aren't we, Bruce? Members of the League of Shadows," he said, reaching through the other man's guard and lifting him by his neck. He dragged him to where his men could see easily. "And you betrayed us!"

"Us?" the Batman gasped. "You were excommunicated. By a gang of psychopaths!"

Bane viciously beat him and threw him to the ground in a matter of seconds. "I am the League of Shadows!" he cried, spreading his arms. He turned back to his opponent. "And I'm here to fulfill Ra's Al Ghul's destiny." The Batman got to his feet and rushed Bane, knocking him down and attacking desperately. "You fight like a younger man, nothing held back," Bane told him pleasantly as he retaliated, showing no sign of pain as he stood. "Admirable, but mistaken," he added, throwing the Batman to the ground. He reached for something in his belt and the lights went out. "Oh, you think darkness is your ally?" Bane asked, as he looked carefully for where the Batman had hidden himself. "You merely adopted the dark. I was born in it. Molded by it. I didn't see the light until I was already a man, and by then it was nothing to me but blinding!" On the last word, he grabbed the Batman by his throat and threw him to the ground, crouching over him and beating his head and neck mercilessly, cracking his mask.

"The shadows betray you because they belong to me!" He stepped away, aware that the Batman was unable to attack, and one of his men threw him a detonator. "I will show you where I have made my home, while preparing to bring justice. Then I will break you," he said, pushing the device. The ceiling exploded and rubble as well as a tank came crashing down. "Your precious armory, gratefully accepted. We will need it." The Batman staggered to his feet and charged once again. "Ah, yes! I was wondering what would break first." He lifted the Batman over his head. "Your spirit, or your body?" Lifting his knee, he brought the other man violently down and heard a loud crack as he made contact, then let him fall to the ground. He reached down and ripped off the cracked mask, smiled, and tossed it into the water as he walked away.

* * *

The trip in the plane was long, but worth it. Bane repelled down into the Pit without assistance. It had been under the control of the League since Ra's had rescued him, all those years ago. He watched at Bruce Wayne, a broken man, was lowered slowly by a rope around his waist. The pain would be excruciating, he knew. He watched as his men placed him in the cell where Talia had been born. This had not been planned, but seemed fitting. His former doctor had the next cell over, but was blind. He sought another prisoner with medical training and ordered him to help Bruce heal. He explained to them in great detail what would happen if they allowed him to die, and, satisfied that he could leave the former Batman here, he went to have a final conversation with him.

"Why didn't you just kill me?" Bruce asked groggily, looking at the masked man crouched beside his cot.

"You don't fear death. You welcome it. Your punishment must be more severe," Bane explained with surprising gentleness.

"Torture?"

"Yes. But not of your body. Of your soul."

"Where am I?"

Bane smiled and rose, turning away. "Home, where I learned the truth about despair. As will you. There's a reason why this prison is the worst Hell on earth. Hope. Every man who has rotted here over the centuries has looked up to the light and imagined climbing to freedom. So easy, so simple," he said, looking up with longing at the sun. "Like shipwrecked man turning to seawater from uncontrollable thirst, many have died trying. I learned here that there can be no true despair without hope." He turned back and sat on the edge of the cot, still looking toward the sun. "So, as I terrorize Gotham, I will feed its people hope to poison their souls. I will let them believe they can survive so that you can watch them clambering over each other to stay in the sun."

He directed the broken man's attention to a television on the wall outside the cell, where it was unreachable. "You will watch me torture an entire city and when you have truly understood the depth of your failure, we will fulfill Ra's al Ghul's destiny. We will destroy Gotham and then, when it is done, when Gotham is ashes, then you have my permission to die." He pressed his hand against the smaller man's chest as he stood, and his cries of agony followed Bane as he left the Pit.

* * *

The flight back to Gotham was an impatient one. There was a great deal to do, and he did not know how long Bruce would last in the Pit. He gathered his best men, and Dr. Pavel, and calmly went up to the board room in Wayne Tower. His men explained the situation to the members of the board already present and he waited patiently for the rest to appear. When Talia entered the room, she was very convincing in her fear of his presence. He smiled.

"How pleasant of you to join us, Chair, President. I just need one ordinary board member. Mr. Fox, would you care to nominate?" One man bravely volunteered and they underground toward the reactor. They did not speak, and he was careful not to look at her. They arrived at a wall and the hostages looked concerned that this was where they would meet their fate. Bane stood some ways in front of Talia as a blast tore the wall away, revealing the reactor chamber. He strode forward confidently. "Mr. Fox," he said, gesturing toward the machine. The man stubbornly refused. "I only need one board member and there are eight more waiting upstairs," he said with some impatience.

"I won't do it," Fox said obstinately. Bane signaled one of his men, who forced the other board member to his knees at gunpoint.

"All right, stop," Talia said sharply. "Lucius, you'll kill this man and yourself, and it will barely slow him down." She walked up to the panel next to Bane, placing her hand on the screen to activate the device. She glanced at him for a moment, her expression unreadable, before stepping aside for Fox to complete the activation. Bane grasped the color of his coat while Fox and the other board member supplied their fingerprints for the machine to recognize.

"Do your work," Bane told the scientist, who moved hastily forward with trembling fingers. He hoped that would not adversely affect the delicate process he would be doing. "Take them to the surface," he told his men, ignoring when Talia looked at him a little too quickly. "People of their status need to experience the next stage in Western civilization," he added grandly. When they had disappeared into the tunnels, he sat down on the platform to wait.

After close to an hour, the doctor told him it was ready. He nodded in approval. "Remove the core," he told his men calmly, without rising from his spot.

"You can't! This is the only power source capable of sustaining it. If you move it, the core will decay in a matter of months!"

"Five months, by my calculations," was the calm response.

"Then it will go off!" Pavel cried, as though this wasn't obvious.

"For the sake of your family, Dr. Pavel, I hope so," he said, standing stiffly and walking away, knowing that his men would follow with the weapon.

* * *

Bane climbed up from the sewer and stood at an entrance to the football field. A young boy was singing the national anthem. "What a lovely, lovely voice," he remarked. When the song had finished, the players spread themselves out on the field and he waited until the starting whistle. "Let the games begin," he said, pressing his detonator. The field crumpled into the earth. The sound of other explosions could barely be heard, as thousands of policemen who had foolishly gone into his tunnels to search him out found themselves trapped there. He knew Gordon would overreact at something so ordinary as a kidnapping.

He strode out calmly onto what was left of the field. His men, and the bomb, followed him out. A dead referee lay in his path, and he lifted the man's headset microphone to his mouth and spoke, knowing they would not hear him immediately. "Take control. Gotham, take control of your city." He waited, waving a hand, while they settled down, watching him in horror. "Behold the instrument of your liberation! Identify yourself to the world," he told the scientist, holding out the microphone.

"Dr. Leonid Pavel. Nuclear physicist," he said clearly.

"Tell the world what this is."

"A fully primed neutron bomb. With a blast radius of six miles," he added, faltering.

"And who can disarm this device?"

"Only me."

"Thank you, Doctor," Bane said, and placidly broke the man's neck. Screams echoed across the stadium. "This bomb is armed. The bomb is mobile and the identity of the triggerman is a mystery. One of you holds the detonator," he said grandly, surveying the crowd. "We came not as conquerors, but as liberators to return the control of this city to the people! At the first sign of interference from the outside world, or of people attempting to flee, this anonymous Gothamite, this unsung hero, will trigger the bomb. For now, martial law is in effect. Return to your homes, hold your families close, and wait." He spread his arms widely. "Tomorrow you claim what is rightfully yours!" He dropped the microphone and walked back the way they had come.

They loaded the bomb into one of three identical trucks and he selected six men to alternate driving them on a grid around the city at all times. Three more men were chosen to drive the tanks that would protect these trucks. Barsad took a few to meet the military that was certainly approaching at the only remaining bridge. He met with the remainder of his men at the late Daggett's penthouse, preparing them for what was to come in the next few days.

* * *

The next morning, he gathered a dozen or so men and they climbed in the tanks generously provided by Wayne Enterprises. They went to Black Gate Prison and waited for the press to arrive. He stood on top of one of the tanks and hooked his hands in his belt as they gathered in front of the large metal gate of the prison.

"Behind you stands a symbol of oppression. Black Gate Prison. Where a thousand men have languished for years under the Dent Act. Because of this man!" He held up a picture of the former district attorney. "Harvey Dent, held up to you as a shining example of justice." He tore the picture in half violently. "You have been supplied with a false idol to stop you from tearing down this corrupt city. Let me tell you the truth about Harvey Dent from the words of Gotham's police commissioner, James Gordon."

Reaching into his coat, he removed the confession he had taken from the commissioner and began to read. "'The Batman didn't murder Harvey Dent; he saved my boy then took the blame for Harvey's appalling crime so that I could, to my shame, build a lie around this false idol." He shook his head sadly. "I praised the mad man who tried to murder my own child but I can no longer live with my lie. It is time to trust the people of Gotham with the truth and it is time for me to resign.'" He put the papers away and looked toward the cameras intently. "And do you accept this man's resignation? Do you accept the resignation of all these liars? Of all the corrupt?" He listened for the sound of the prisoners inside jeering. "We take Gotham from the corrupt. And we give this city to you, the people. Gotham is yours, none shall interfere. Do as you please," he said reassuringly as the cannons destroyed the metal gate. "But start by storming Blackgate and freeing the oppressed!" he cried passionately. "Step forward, those who would serve. For an army will be raised, the powerful will be ripped from their decadent nests and cast into the cold world the rest of us have known and endured. Courts will be convened, the spoils will be enjoyed, blood will be shed, but the police will live, until they are ready to serve true justice. This great city will endure," he added almost gently. "Gotham WILL survive."

Bane stepped down from the tank and led his men, including some new additions, to City Hall. They entered in force and caused most of the staff to flee immediately. Less than an hour passed before the place was his. He entered a clerk's office and settled down to research the former inmates to see if there were any he should seek out especially.

He heard a light footstep approaching. "You should not be here," he said, without looking up.

"Is this what you do in your triumph, my friend? Read alone?" Talia asked, walking up to the desk where he sat.

"We have not triumphed yet," he said practically.

"The man who killed my father is broken and languishing in prison. The City is ours. Well, yours, anyway. What remains?"

He smiled. "The bomb will not detonate for many months. It is important that we keep the Gothamites from any foolish attempts to change their fate."

She considered this, then nodded. "What do we do now?"

"Wait. Wait and let the Batman suffer when he sees what we have done to his City. I will remain here, enforcing martial law. And you will keep your identity as a socialite. They will protect you and take you into their confidence since you saved his company," he told her, not looking at her.

"And how will I contact you if I discover something?"

He raised his eyes to hers and smiled sadly. "You always know how to find me."

She reached out and touched his cheek for a moment, then turned away, her steps echoing across the empty halls as she left.

**A/N: I hope the movie stuff came off okay and was still exciting :) Please read and review!**


	9. You Can Break Me, Death Can Take Me,

**You Can Break Me, Death Can Take Me, But It's Never Over**

Bane stood in a large marble hall, leaning against a pillar. The room was full of what could only be considered a mob. A gilt chair stood before an enormous pile of desks. On top of these was a small, gangly man with dark hair and wild blue eyes. He had recently been an inmate in Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane and, after reading his file, Bane felt he would be useful here.

"Order! Order! This is a sentencing hearing. Your guilt has already been determined by the people. What punishment will you have?" Dr. Crane called down to the poor fool on the chair.

"Jail time?" he suggested.

"Wrong. Exile or death."

"Exile!" the man cried.

Bane smiled at the expression of delight on the doctor's face. "Very well, exile! Take him down to the ice and let him walk," he ordered no one in particularly. Bane nodded to a few of his men to do as asked and watched as the man cried out and clung to them, begging for mercy. He rested against the pillar and watched as the parade of wealthy, cruel people, still clutching some last valuable, were sentenced to death in some form or another. Some of the condemned turned to him instead of Crane, and he informed them that he had no power here. Crane seemed to like that.

Months passed. The Gothamites accepted their fate, ever hopeful because the threat of the bomb was nearly forgotten as they enjoyed all the decadence they could get their hands on. Any policemen who remained above the ground were hunted down, in search of Commissioner Gordon. Though Bane did not fear him particularly, he did not like having such a seasoned man outside of his control.

* * *

He received word from Talia that Fox and Gordon knew that the bomb would go off whether or not it was detonated. She informed him that some Special Forces members would be coming to save the city. It had been months and he was surprised it had taken them so long to try to sneak someone onto the island. He decided it had been long enough, and there were only days remaining before Gotham would be destroyed. It was time for them to leave. So he sent his men to kill the fools who had come to this city so close to its ruin and hung them from a bridge. They also "captured" Talia, Gordon, and the few remaining police officers.

The winter sun glinted off the cold marble in City Hall as the new prisoners stood before Crane. "No judge, no jury? What due process is this?" Gordon snarled.

"Your guilt has already been decided. This is a sentencing hearing," Crane explained. "Death or exile?"

"We're not going to walk out on that ice," was the defiant response.

"Death, then. By exile," Crane replied, smiling.

"Bring her to me," Bane said quietly as the prisoners were lead away. He turned and walked to one offices he used, trusting his men to bring Talia after him. "Leave us," he told them. He waited until they had shut the door. "It is time for us to leave," he told her.

"We have not triumphed yet," she replied with a smile.

"I would not like to be here when we do," he responded.

"Neither would I. But Bruce Wayne – "

Shouts in the hallway interrupted her. He walked out onto the balcony and saw a fiery shape appearing on the bridge. A bat. "Impossible!" he cried in disbelief. No man could have escaped that hell, and certainly not one as broken as Wayne had been.

"He's back. Selina Kyle took him and Fox away to try and save the city," she told him softly.

Several of his men were on the balcony as well. "Keep her safe," he told them. "He will come for her." He left them to consider what resources he had and how best to use them. And to assess how great a threat Wayne truly was.

* * *

Bane walked down the steps slowly, surveying the chaos below. Thousands of men were embroiled in a violent confrontation before him. He considered the safety of Talia and charged at the first man he saw. He heard bones cracking as he fought with little consideration. These men had been underground for months, and were no challenge. He shrugged off his coat and entered the melee, felling men with one blow and tossing them aside.

He was aware, as he made a path through the chaos, of a similar path approaching his own. The Batman had returned. And had clearly regained his strength. A twinge of worry crossed Bane's thoughts. How could such a man have escaped the Hell in which he had been left? The two forces met and men backed away, regardless of their loyalties. Bane caught Wayne's punch once again, and dismissed his worry. He fought brutally, holding nothing back. Time was running out. They had only to keep these foolish heroes at bay for half an hour or less.

The shock of pain surprised Bane and he stepped back in confusion as part of his mask was torn by the blades on Wayne's arms. The Batman saw this and Bane observed the realization dawning in his face. So he attacked with renewed ferocity, feeling his knuckles connect with the other man's body armor, then with hard concrete. He turned hastily to pursue, but was caught off guard by another blow to his mask. The pain increased and he gasped for air. He struck recklessly, barely making contact, as the Batman continued his assault on the mask. A small part of Bane's brain recalled his own attack on the other man's mask before being swallowed up in pain.

A swift kick knocked Bane through the doors and across the hall. His fingers clawed at his mask, but he was clumsy with pain and unable to fix the apparatus. The Batman was on him in a moment, kicking him brutally, then demanding information on the trigger. Bane struggled with his mask ineffectually as the other man screamed at him, catching his arms and punching his mask again. He couldn't understand how this man had returned from the Pit and found himself saying his thoughts aloud in response to the questions.

"I broke you; how have you come back?" he murmured.

"You thought you were the only one who could learn the strength to escape?" Wayne asked, triumphant and condescending.

"I never escaped," Bane replied patiently, as agony swallowed him up. He was aware, some moments later, that the beating had stopped. He heard Talia's voice.

Bane turned his gaze to her and lay quietly, breathing slowly and fighting to stay conscious as Wayne turned in confusion. "Miranda? Why?" He asked in disbelief.

"Talia. My mother named me, before she died." Bane could hear her speak, tell Wayne of her past and his in the Pit. He watched her, unable to respond and the pain making it difficult to understand. Her fingers gently put his mask back together and he was able to breathe again. She spoke of him with such reverence as her protector. But had he saved her? This thought caused him to lose control of himself and a tear escaped his eye. Her life would end today; indeed, quite soon. Was it worth it to have survived the Pit only to become consumed by the need to avenge her father? He could have carried out their plan without her assistance easily, so what use was her death here?

He turned his face away from her to escape the thought losing her. He rose slowly and picked up the shotgun left behind on the floor. Her explanation to the Batman hurt him and he was not sure that the man needed to be told the whole of it. Did it please her to explain his downfall before causing it? If that was the case, then she was not keeping to her training. When a man must be killed, it should be swift, not slow, especially when the man was as dangerous as this one. He brought out some cable and bound him, though it did not appear that caution was necessary. Wayne was clearly shocked and beaten.

Talia twisted her knife in the Batman's side as she spoke with relish of the pain of a slow weapon. She pressed the trigger, and Bane waited for a fire that did not come.

"Perhaps the knife was too slow," the Batman said softly.

"Gordon," she hissed. "You gave him a way to stop my signal." She took a deep breath and rose to her feet. "No matter. He's bought Gotham eleven minutes," she told Wayne acidly. To Bane, she said, "Don't kill him. I want him to feel the heat. Feel the fire of twelve million souls you failed." She stepped forward, touching his mask gently. "Goodbye, my friend," she said tenderly, her eyes regretful.

Bane watched her silently as she walked away, pain still making the world difficult to follow. He blinked slowly, looking down at the Batman. He did not want to die here, with their enemy. He would follow her, as he always had. Even if it wasn't exactly what she wanted.

"We both know that I have to kill you now," he told the Batman, kicking him savagely, so that he was lying on the cold marble floor. "You'll just have to imagine the fire," he said cheerfully, aiming the shotgun at the Batman's face. He was considering how best to to find her again when he heard a crash and excruciating pain exploded across his chest. Bane was vaguely aware of a force pushing him across the room. He wondered hazily if Talia had expected them both to die all along. His eyes closed as he recalled her last look and the feeling of her fingers on his mask.

**The End**

* * *

**A/N: Such a sad story :( Thanks to HeyNowYa for the great support for the whole story. Thanks to Grumpywinter for the input. Thanks angelrosewater for a very amusing review :) And thanks to all the other people who reviewed or followed or favorited! I hope you enjoyed reading the end as much as I did writing it!**


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